


The Ursa Major Job (aka “Not Exactly Your Uncle Walter’s Remix”)

by Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)



Category: Charmin "Bears" Commercials, Leverage
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Remix, Sequel, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/pseuds/Gray%20Cardinal
Summary: It was the craziest idea for a conspiracy theory the Leverage team could come up with. But it wouldn't be a Leverage con if something didn't go sideways partway through.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	The Ursa Major Job (aka “Not Exactly Your Uncle Walter’s Remix”)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debirlfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Breaking News! Bear Bares All!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042831) by [debirlfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/pseuds/debirlfan). 



**Tuesday afternoon**

Hardison kept eyes on the mark for a good five minutes after he and his camera operator left the building. Finally:

“All clear. Taking SFX offline – now.”

One of the “walls” in the large room below Hardison’s control suite simply vanished; two of the others flicked from the illusion of warm wood paneling to flat gray slate. And the three brightly colored bears scattered around the room – one lounging on a long, overstuffed sofa, the smallest perched on an oversized bar stool, and the blue one seated in an extra wide, extra tall leather executive chair – sparkled for a moment and then de-pixelated, transforming in the process into Sophie Devereaux, Parker, and Elliot Spencer respectively. Each was wearing dark green Spandex liberally dotted with paper-thin black and gold disks, but only Parker gave the impression of being remotely comfortable.

“Are you sure he bought it?” Elliot asked.

“Hook, line, and little cardboard whatsit,” Hardison replied via concealed speaker. “He was talking edits with the camera gal on their way out. The plan is to lead with the interview on Friday’s episode. And then, and I quote, _Truth Factor will be the biggest pop-news show in syndication, bar none!_ ”

Sophie was grinning. “For about ten minutes, till we drop our version on the ‘Net with a full SFX analysis. Conover will be laughed out of Hollywood – and even if Felice’s new pilot isn’t picked up, her harassment claim against Conover will get fast-tracked.”

Parker hopped off the bar stool and began carefully peeling sensor disks off her bodysuit. “Just so the techies at _Truth Factor_ don’t do their own analysis before the footage airs.”

“Not to worry,” Hardison said. “They’ve only got the two qualified video analysts, one’s on a fishing trip in Michigan, and Nate’s covering for the other.”

“I still can’t believe Conover went for it,” said Eliot. “I mean, who in their right mind would believe Charmin uses real live talking bears for their animated TV ads?”

“Conover’s not looking for plausible, he’s looking for ratings,” Sophie told him. “Also, remember, genetic research and animal experimentation are both hot-button issues for his viewers. We hit him with both barrels; no way he wasn’t biting.”

**Thursday afternoon**

“Mr. Hardison, I believe.”

The warm, rumbly voice on Hardison’s cell phone didn’t belong to Nate Ford. Given that it was coming in on Nate’s cell line, this was a capital-P Problem.

“Give me one reason,” Hardison said, “not to make that phone blow up in your hand.”

The reply was unnervingly calm. “Please, let’s avoid violence. We simply need to arrange a meeting, and our choice of venues is…restricted.”

“It’s okay, Hardison.” That _was_ Nate’s voice, and it sounded – if not calm, at least settled enough to let Hardison tamp down his own nerves. “He’s right, we do need to meet – bring the team here, two hours.”

“Got it, boss.”

The other voice gave an address that Hardison pinged as a warehouse owned by something called TriColor Holdings, in an industrial district near Los Angeles Harbor. “We look forward to meeting you.”

**two hours later**

“Are we sure Nate’s okay?” Sophie asked, as the team approached the warehouse.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Hardison replied, parking the van. “But Nate didn’t give any of the countersigns telling us to come in hot, and he absolutely could have. On the other hand, I have no clue what this TriColor outfit is, does, or connects to – they’re just about as off-the-grid as we are.”

Parker pursed her lips. “You want me to come in dark?”

Hardison and Eliot looked at each other. “I don’t think so,” Hardison said reluctantly. “Not with Nate in the middle. I can’t say I like this, but right now I think we need to follow his lead and play it cool.”

The four of them walked a half-block from the van to an unmarked metal door, whose bolt audibly clicked back as they approached. “Lovely,” said Eliot. “They go in for tricked-out setups. Old-school _Batman_ much?”

“Stop worrying and start watching out,” Sophie told him, reaching forward to turn the handle. “Let’s do this.” Inside, they found one brightly lit corridor with two dark side passages, and followed the lighted hallway until it opened into a large chamber…

…in which Nate sat in one large armchair, while three brightly colored bears lounged comfortably in various parts of the room.

“Greetings,” said the largest, a blue-furred bear seated in a familiar-looking oversized executive chair. “Now you see why it would have been difficult for us to come to you.”

Hardison’s jaw was hanging open. “Amazing,” he said softly, his eyes flicking from corner to corner of the chamber, then lighting on each bear in turn. “The holographics are totally seamless.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t think these are holograms.”

“They’re not,” Parker said flatly. “Use your nose, Hardison. These guys are bears, and I mean actual bears.”

Hardison’s nose twitched. He swallowed. Then, slowly, he spoke. “Omigawd,” he said. “Actual bears. Only – how? And what are the odds? We were just going for the most off-the-wall impossible news story we could think of. And – wait, do you guys actually work for Charmin?”

“We did,” said the blue bear. “But the initial contract ran out a year ago, and we…failed to agree on new terms. Fortunately, we’d foreseen the potential for difficulties. One of my siblings is very good with computers and finance, so we’re reasonably well provided for. However, we have all the difficulties you’d expect where day-to-day living is concerned, and for that reason we’ve done our best to remain under the radar. But earlier this week, one of Otto’s automated trawlers pinged your manufactured footage, and we realized we needed to make contact.”

“You can see why we were worried.” The voice belonged to a small red bear, who was curled up in an armchair next to Nate’s. “We’re a lot safer if nobody realizes we actually exist – and here was this news story, proclaiming to the world that here we were. Moreover, your version of our origin was just close enough to be…concerning.”

Hardison swallowed again. “Do I dare ask what we got wrong?”

The blue bear gave the red one a sharp look. “We weren’t abandoned,” it said. “The lab facility was private, but some of the researchers had ties to military intelligence, and word got back to one of the nastier black-ops outfits about us. Rather than let us be weaponized, the whole research team decided to shut the lab down entirely and give us our freedom. That was several years ago; while we still have some online contact with one or two of the scientists involved, we’ve done our best to stay under the radar.”

“By doing TV commercials?” Sophie interjected.

The red bear nodded. “Amazingly enough, that deal went down almost exactly the way you described it. The Charmin marketing people agreed from the first that the ads would be animated, and the black-ops folks hadn’t been told enough about us to make the connection on their own. Now, though, if your story were to air….”

Eliot nodded back. “They’d have enough of the right clues to backtrail and work out that there might just be bears in them thar woods.”

By contrast, Parker’s expression was fierce enough to look a bit bear-like itself. “No, they won’t – not after we spring the second reveal. Or at worst, they’ll go after Conover, and nothing he can tell them will lead to you guys.”

Nate smiled. “That’s my girl. You’re right, things should be okay in the long run.” He shifted to address the blue bear. “I told you I wasn’t just blowing smoke – and now you’ve heard it from them, too. Plus, we can jigger the second reveal a bit to make Conover look like even more of a nut. Hardison, remember the idea you had for the stage two soundtrack?”

Hardison blinked, then grinned and whistled a few bars of a sprightly tune. “That idea, boss?”

All three bears’ eyes went a little round as they traded looks with one another. The blue one turned his chair to face Hardison. “You’d really go there?”

“In a heartbeat,” Hardison replied cheerfully. “The Internet will be so busy laughing at Conover that even your black-ops guys will chalk our supposed exposé up as the nutty conspiracy-theory case of the week.”

“Actually,” Eliot put in, “this ought to strengthen your cover. If anyone from the intel side thinks to look into the Charmin angle, the people there will be able to tell them everything on the Conover tape is completely fake – and it’ll be true, which will both cover Charmin’s ass and wipe any trail that might originally have been left.”

Parker and Sophie glared at Eliot, but the red bear let out a bark of laughter. “I like it. Julian?”

The blue bear’s head bobbed. “Agreed. In that event, I think we’re done here, and you have our thanks. Mr. Hardison,” it added, “if you’ll give us a contact address, Otto will be in touch to discuss any additional issues.” At a glance from Hardison, Nate passed Julian a business card.

“What, no celebration?” Parker demanded.

“It’s just as well,” the red bear told her. “We’re messy eaters by your standards – and I’m afraid none of us can actually waltz.”

# # #


End file.
